


you are like the raindrops (the raindrops falling down on me)

by jemmasleopold



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 01:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4040959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemmasleopold/pseuds/jemmasleopold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jemma goes on a blind date, but ends up having to take a rain check. Literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are like the raindrops (the raindrops falling down on me)

**Author's Note:**

> \+ i wrote like all of this at 12am last night bc my thought process wants to be the best at that hour RATHER THAN AT A NORMAL TIME
> 
> \+ the puns are strong in this one, see if you can spot them (-;
> 
> \+ if you squint you might see some philinda
> 
> \+ prompt #49: umbrella
> 
> \+ song: droplets by lewis watson feat. gabrielle aplin
> 
> \+ i highly suggest listening to the song while you read

She should have never worn this dress.

She had merely worn it for good luck, but considering the torrential downpour she was standing in at the moment, it was official: it had lost its charm. She was just about ready to rip the bloody thing off, as much as she loved it. For the most part, it wasn't an out-of-the-box dress, a lot like the ones Skye usually pushed her into the dressing room with. It was simple, and _actually sleeved_. Modest, but form-fitting enough that it showed off a bit of her curves. She wasn't _that_ oblivious to the fashion world. She liked to think she was above average. Swirling with reds, oranges, greens, and white, she was a bounce of color in an otherwise dreary world.

Her yellow umbrella was a great addition to that.

She had found it beneath the bench of a bus stop, and after an internal debate over the pros and cons of claiming it for herself for far longer than she should have, she ran off with it. As best as she could in these shoes, for that matter.

You see, the only downside to it was how _bloody big it was_.

She constantly staggered under its weight, snakeskin pumps _quite_ helpful in aiding with her struggle. Whoever formerly owned the blasted thing was probably ten times the size of her, and honestly, she wouldn't be surprised if they were. Everyone seemed to be.

She now stood at a crosswalk, silently waiting for the signal to walk as cars passed by, each a sleek blur of metal as the rain continued to pour. She was smart enough to not stand too close to the curb, which she was currently calling "the Splash Zone" and feeling immensely proud of herself for coming up with it. She held the umbrella with a certain nervousness, knuckles white from the overcoming impatience of waiting for the light to turn red. She was going to be so late, she just knew it.

Where exactly was she going?

Nubile young prodigy Jemma Simmons was on her way to a blind date.

 

\+ + +

 

It had been Skye's idea to sign up for it. They had been at the Boiler Room - the secret underground bar that she was constantly being dragged to by the girl herself - the night she came stumbling over, bearing a yellow flyer that she said "would be the solution to all her sciency problems... or whatever."

" _Skye_ ," she hissed after pulling her away from the crowds and into the bathroom. "in no universe will I ever go on a _blind date_. You of all people should know that!"

"But Jem _ma_ ," she insisted, drawing out the last syllable in what seemed to be a last-ditch effort for her to cooperate. "It'll be fun! We can go together and you can talk the ears off guys with science, meanwhile _I'll_ be trying to sell my virginity to some pretentious asshole in a one-night stand!"

"Skye!" Jemma screeched, fumbling for her handbag and aiming to smack the intoxicated girl on the shoulder, which she dodged with surprising swiftness and not-so-surprising agility. She narrowly missed bringing the trashcan down with her. Soon she was sprawled out across the tiled floor, all of a sudden in a coughing fit that was nothing but mucus and whatever the hell she had downed.

" _Please_ , Jemma," she tried again after finally catching her breath, practically on her knees - if she were sober enough to do so - as she folded her hands and shook them furiously. "I swear to god, I'll stop bringing you here so you can do whatever the hell biochemists do when they're not with their friends who, incidentally, are trying to help these biochemists get a life and -"

"Alright, alright!" she cut in, having rolled her eyes so much by now it was as if her pupils had disappeared into another universe. "I get it, I get it. You're probably not going to even remember saying that, and _still_ bring me here next Friday to try to hook me up with some bloody bastard infested with acne and... whatever the hell you Americans normally carry, but... what the hell."

Skye somehow managed to get up then, without toppling over and bringing Jemma down with her. She brought her in for a rather over-the-top hug, jumping up and down excitedly as she squealed out her praises for the next five minutes.

When they finally exited the bathroom, Jemma couldn't help but say something.

"You know, I don't _just_ talk about science. I am a human being, _Skye_ , I am allowed to talk about other things. And when I do talk about science, it's actually interesting!"

Skye stopped then, turning to face her and place both her hands on her shoulders and saying to her, in the most serious tone she had ever used - drunk, that is:

"Jemma Simmons, I love you to death, I would _die_ for you, but when it comes to the mere mention of science, I'm out like a light."

 

\+ + +

 

"Shakes are on me."

"Mr. Coulson, you don't have to do that," Jemma countered politely as he gave them their orders. Strawberry for her, and cookie dough for Skye, who had started reaching for the glass greedily before catching what Jemma had said and kicking her in the shin.

"Simmons, what the hell did I say about our policy on free food?" she hissed, on the verge of scowling at her before realizing Coulson was still there and quickly shifting it into a innocent smile. " _I mean_ , free food? You shouldn't have, AC!"

A groan escaped Jemma's lips. Admitting defeat, she buried her face into her palms, unable to watch whatever was about to happen next. If they got banned from Lola's Diner for the rest of the month, she wouldn't be surprised.

Coulson frowned at Skye, opening his mouth and looking about ready to thoroughly lecture her on the difference between good words and bad words and keeping your hands to yourself, when the soft chime of a bell rang through the restaurant, signaling the arrival of a new customer.

He remained fixed in his spot next to their booth for what seemed like an infinity, as if conflicted between lecturing Skye, who Jemma seriously thought Coulson took for an adopted daughter, and attending to the person that had just come in. When he saw who it was, though, Jemma heard the shuffling of feet as he walked away, tossing over his shoulder a "Saved by the bell," before greeting the stolid Asian that was standing at the entrance and escorting her to the bar.

Jemma slowly brought her palms away from her face and watched as Skye shot Coulson two thumbs-up as he headed back into the kitchen. The grin that had lit up across his face was absolutely infectious, the two girls on the verge of falling out of their seats from bouncing so much. He had come back with the largest grilled cheese Jemma had ever seen. Considering that, the small smile the woman gave him back after receiving her food must have been real, too.

"God, they're _so_ meant for each other," Skye said after a minute or two of them watching the two adults interact and sipping at their respective milkshakes, before the former abruptly sat up in her seat and leaned across the table. "Speaking of which... have you gotten the email info on your blind date yet?" She wiggled her eyebrows - as best as she could, anyway - causing Jemma to instinctively roll her eyes. She pulled her phone out anyway, as Skye got up from her seat and slid into Jemma's to get a better look.

" _Zachary_ ," Skye said after having skimmed over the text, nudging Jemma with an elbow playfully. "He's got about as suave of a name as my guy does."

"What's his name?"

"Grant."

"Real suave." Another eye roll.

"What? It's... formal."

"Formal," Jemma deadpanned, though inwardly she was thankful for the opportunity to catch Skye at her own game.

"Screw you, Simmons."

"Isn't this suave _Zachary_ supposed to be doing that?" She couldn't help it.

"Jemma Simmons!"

 

\+ + +

 

This intersection sure as hell had a slow light.

Or maybe it was because the bloody cars weren't up far enough for the sensors to reach it. She could care less, she was so close to just stomping over and kicking at the underside of that bloody Sedan until it, well, _moved_.

God, why was she still going on this date anyway? Skye had ended up ditching her, as always. Had said she had to "run errands for AC." _My arse_ , Jemma thought darkly. She was probably hiding out at his diner right now, hogging all of his award-winning patriotic apple pie.

Which she could really use right now. Warm and gooey and...

It was then that Jemma realized just how cold she was. She hadn't noticed it until now, just how shaky she was, goosebumps running up and down her arms. She gripped her elbow with her free hand, hunching over in an attempt to find whatever warmth she was still emitting until she was frozen to the core.

That might have been a slight overexaggeration, but it certainly applied to another person at the moment.

Jemma huffed, eyebrows furrowing in frustration as she scuffed her heels against the sidewalk. Things were just looking up today, weren't they?

She spoke too soon. One minute she was staring at the ground, the next she was _on_ the ground. Well, to be specific, she was atop a rather... lean man. Who was... soaking wet. She would have started laughing, thankful that someone in this city happened to be going through the same experience as she was currently.

He just had to open his eyes.

In comparison to the puddles surrounding the two, they weren't like most people's: a blue-grey. No, they were _blue_ , an endless void of blue that Jemma was sure she could get lost in if she tried. It was as if the sky and the ocean breached through, clashing and becoming reborn in this very man's gaze. It was... _mesmerizing_.

He suddenly jolted beneath her, stomach expanding as he coughed awkwardly. Brought back to her senses, she realized that while she was on top of him she was most likely depriving him of precious oxygen, considering her weight. So, finally managing to regain her bearings, she got off him, brushing off the front of her dress even if it was already way past gone now. She then picked up her umbrella, reopened it, and lent a hand to the gentleman still lying on the pavement.

He didn't look like he was going anywhere.

Hovering over him, Jemma bent down, cocking her head to study him and look him over for any possible injuries - a well-known habit of hers. When she found none, she finally posed the rather obvious question that still hung in the air.

"Are you alright?"

At the same time, it seemed, he stuttered an "I'm so sorry."

They both seemed shocked. He was... Scottish. She had never really known anyone here who wasn't American. It was basically the only people she had surrounded herself with ever since she had gotten here.

She merely shrugged in response to what seemed to be a rather forthright apology. "I'm already so wet from just standing here waiting, so I don't mind." She winced at her poor word choice, which he seemed to notice. She swore she heard a snicker come from him, so she couldn't help but toe his side and shoot him a look.

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized quickly, taking a hold of her hand and getting up.

 _Bloody hell_ , she thought to herself as she felt herself pale. His face was the cherry on top; contrasting to what he was _wearing_ was going to put Jemma into a coma.

He wore a grey shirt - simple, yes - but considering it _clung to his every curve and dip_ , it was something. He wore it with tight jeans, also stuck to his body, and a ratty pair of black Converse that seemed to be wholly unaffected by the weather.

The poor girl managed to throw herself into a coughing fit in the process of taking in the body of someone who would ultimately ruin her, had she not already been heading to a blind date. The boy's eyes bugged out of his head then, and Jemma couldn't help but think that was how she looked about five seconds ago. He lurched forward, causing her to visibly flinch and back away, before realizing he was only trying to help. Allowing him to roughly pat her back with a... strong and... rather nice hand, she eventually regained her breath, now panting in exhaustion.

"Are you alright?" he asked after a moment, hand still on the small of her back for some reason. Which, both surprisingly and unsurprisingly, she didn't mind at all.

She nodded with so much vigor she thought her head had fallen off. "Yes, yes, I'm fine," she said hurriedly, waving a hand dismissively and causing the man to step away and bring his hand away from her. The loss of contact made Jemma's legs wobble.

"You are _not_ fine," he said pointedly, brogue unhelpful. "You look like you're about to topple over. And anyway, as you can obviously see, I'm drenched, so maybe it would help us both if we stuck together."

He had been so forward that Jemma had gotten so far as to thinking up a kind apology, before realizing that _he had just openly invited himself to stay_. She hadn't had to do it herself. Which _never_ happened.

 _Act casual_ , Jemma hissed to herself, about to respond when he cut her off and began sputtering like a broken engine.

"If that's okay, o' course," he said nervously, wringing his hands. "I don't want to be intrusive, but I'm probably going to come down with something if I don't get under anything, and it looks to me like that umbrella weighs more than you do. I could carry it with you?"

Jemma blanched at that, and he seemed to notice. She was surprised at just how wide his eyes could open. All the more to see those amazing irises...

 _This must happen to him a lot_ , she thought, averting her gaze and drawing her lips into a taut line. _Or not, since he seems to be such a nervous wreck right now_.

Just like her... maybe this would work.

She flicked her gaze back up to his, and opened her mouth to say something, _anything_ , but felt her throat go dry by the mere sight of him. At a loss for words, she shut it just as fast as she had opened it, before nodding her head quickly in what she hoped was a valid enough response.

He seemed to visibly relax at that, shoulders sagging into a certain weariness she was familiar with. Heaving an exhausted sigh, he ran a hand through his drenched curls, causing a spray of water to veil the top of his head like a misty halo. She giggled helplessly, a noise she hadn't made in quite sometime. This guy was _definitely_ doing something to her. Stepping forward to give him better coverage with the umbrella, she turned to find that the timer had finally gone off on the crosswalk, and was already at - bloody hell, _five_?!

"Run!" she yelped, doing exactly so as best as she could in her shoes. She wasn't making much progress.

Before she knew it, a pair of arms was sweeping her off her feet and the boy - she didn't even know his name yet, no surprise there - was sprinting across the crosswalk, carrying her with him, bridal style. It took Jemma a bit to recover, the bulkiness of his arms having put her into a temporary daze. She tried to be as much help as she could, lifting the umbrella higher to block as much rain out as she possibly could, and help him navigate better.

As soon as they had made it over safely, Jemma couldn't help but notice that he had held her a bit longer than he should have. Maybe it was just her, but she swore she had seen him staring into her eyes for a moment before finally lowering her, in what seemed to be a hesitant matter, and allowing her to regain her bearings once more.

"Thank you," she murmured shyly, reaching up to wipe a few wet strands of hair away from her face, when he surprised her once more, and softly brushed his... rather long fingers across her face and doing the job for her.

"No problem," he responded in kind, bringing his hand back quicker than he should have. They stood there for a few moments, and Jemma swore she heard what sounded like faint cheering in the back of her head, which sounded way too much like Skye. She rolled her eyes a bit at herself, pushing the voice away though reacting to it in such a way that made her think: Were they getting it on, then?

He walked away first, probably out of embarrassment, heading in what seemed to be the same direction as her, though slower than he had been before. He was going to be awfully late for whatever he had been rushing to a while ago, lagging just so she could catch up, but considering she herself would be tardy as well, she guessed she shouldn't mind. She rushed after him, and within a few strides, they were matching each other's steps.

"You know, I never got your name," she finally decided to say after a moment or two, having mustered up whatever dignity she had left and forced it into her words.

"Fitz," he said with a chuckle, trying to find a place to put his hands before wrapping one around the umbrella and putting the other one in his back pocket, hanging it haphazardly by his thumb. His fingers were _very_ close to touching hers, a few centimeters above them, which were both wrapped around the base of the pole. He turned to her in what seemed to be expectancy, and she managed to reply without making too much of a scene.

"Jemma."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence then, something that should have been built up from years of careful approach toward what even borderlined friendship, but seemed to come naturally to them both. It didn't go unnoticed by her, however, when Fitz's hand drifted down and ended up covering hers, in a careful manner, as if he were testing the waters. Before she knew it, she had laced her fingers through his, quite aware of the numerous stares they were attracting from people passing by. And, was that a smile on his face? She hadn't been expecting  _that_. She wasn't surprised, though; she felt like she reflected him exactly.

Too soon they found themselves standing at the entrance to Providence, a renown restaurant with the best winery in town, owned by philanthropist Ian Quinn. Exquisite, yet deathly. It was obvious neither of them were ready to part just yet. Their glued hands and gazes seemed to prove that point.

"Is this you?" he asked, even if it was rather obvious; she had come to a stop right in front of it.

She nodded, biting her lip and suppressing the corners of her mouth from raising into a sheepish smile.

"Blind dating, yeah?"

She hadn't expected that. "Yes, actually," she responded a bit more defensively than she needed to.

"Hey, I wasn't meaning anything by it. Just asking is all. And anyway, I'm heading in to do the same thing."

She seriously shouldn't have been surprised. After all, he had walked with her to the same place, with absolutely no objections. She had just taken it to be a gentlemanly action.

"But to be honest, I'm probably not going to go in there. Not like this."

Another giggle. What was this... Fitz, was it? What was Fitz doing to her?

Examining his apparel, she couldn't help but agree more. The umbrella hadn't exactly helped to shield them against the storm, as large as it was, tee shirt still plastered to him like it was now a second skin. And... extremely provocative, in every which way. She cleared her throat, doing her very best to rid herself of what she was currently taking to be sinful thoughts.

"I probably won't either."

That wasn't what she had meant to say. At all. She fumbled to find the right words to cover up, squirm her way out of the fix she had gotten herself into with this man.

"What's the name of the guy you're meeting up with?"

Thank god for him. Wait.

"Zachary," she supplied, all of a sudden beaming with a certain pride. Now that she thought about it, his name did in fact sound suave. Maybe if Jemma played her cards right, she could at least get Fitz's number and meet up with him at another point in time...

"That bloody bastard?"

She froze at that. _"What?"_ she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Fitz barely seemed fazed by her sudden shift in moods, shrugging his shoulders and fiddling with Jemma's fingers subconsciously, which she was actually kind of liking at the moment. "He's an insufferable prat that deserves to go to hell."

He said it like it was a known fact. As much as she wanted to believe him, considering many extremely viable reasons leaning toward his favor, she barely knew him. She needed proof.

"Oh?" she said, eyebrows raising in feigned shock. "And your date is any better?"

When Fitz recoiled, pulled his hand away to shove into his other pocket, and dropped his gaze, a wave of instant regret washed over her. Maybe she had taken that a little too far.

"Her name's Callie," he muttered, kicking at the crack in the sidewalk awkwardly. "Know her?"

"Do I?!"

It was Fitz's turn to be surprised.

"She's a gold digger, Fitz. I've played pool with her before; you do not want to go in there if you want your bank account to get sapped. She's a manipulative ice-cold bitch that doesn't deserve you."

Fitz's gaze raised at that, hopeful as ever as a small smile peeked through the passive facade he had tried so hard to put on against her harsh tone just moments ago. Yet again, Jemma wished she hadn't said anything.

"I - I didn't mean... not that way!" she attempted to cover up, but Fitz's grin was growing wider by the second and it was starting to get to her. She slumped over at that, muttering an "I give up," and waiting for the blow.

It was softer than she expected. The blow, not his... lips.

Jemma dropped the umbrella the second their eyes met. The rain didn't affect them whatsoever, only made them laugh and take a moment to soak, _literally_ , in all of Mother Nature's riches. Her stomach knotted and unknotted in tentative anticipation of what was about to happen, what this intimate exchange was leading to. She wasn't _that_ oblivious to the romantic world. The look he was giving her, one of awe and wonder and everything she had always wanted to see in someone's else eyes, _towards her_ , made her heart soar. They stood there, just _staring_ at each other, before she felt his fingers ghost her chin. He leaned forward, tipping her head upward to slant his lips over hers. His hands then moved to her hips, and she gave off a squeak of surprise when he hoisted her up to level out the kiss. His laughs echoed through her throat, and she swatted where she thought his ear was, with no such luck. So, to get even with him, she wrapped her legs around his waist. She was taking a risk, yes, considering the length of the dress as well as the public space they were currently standing in, but it was worth it when he quietly moaned into her mouth and sent shivers up and down her spine. She had no intention of pulling away the second her fingers found his curls, but obviously, Fitz had other plans.

He slowly pulled himself out, allowing Jemma to relish in every last kiss before their foreheads met and their eyes opened to two _very_ different people.

"Hi."

One word from him just sent her into a fit of giggles. "Hi there," she responded after a moment or two, accent making her sound all the more chipper. She couldn't help but drop her gaze to his throbbing lips, licking her own before flicking them back up. Fitz's eyes were blown wide and bluer than ever.

"That was -"

"- a hell of a ton better than _Zachary_ could do?"

"More like a hell of a ton better than Callie could do to _you_ ," she said, jabbing her finger into his... firm chest. He chuckled, and it seemed to Jemma he would have given her a solid retort had he not shifted his gaze elsewhere.

"We've got quite the crowd," he noted.

"Your point being?" she countered, having found interest in a stray curl on his head that had bounced out of place during their... well, whatever _that_ had been, and twirling it with her index finger.

"I've never been able to attract people without at least mucking _something_ up," he pointed out, an underlying childishness to his words that made Jemma smirk.

"Well, for starters, you just totally screwed Callie over," she said in a matter-of-fact tone, patting his head as a signal to release her. He got it somehow, placing her down gently, like she was something to be handled with great care. She liked that.

"That's true. But I like to think that me making out with you more than covers that."

"I have a feeling you're going to be using that the next time we passionately make out in the rain."

Fitz made a huge scene of whipping out his phone and turning around, striking a twinge of curiosity in Jemma as she creeped over and got on her tiptoes, peering over Fitz's shoulder to see what he was doing.

"Next time, huh? There's a 70% chance of it raining next Tuesday."

_"Bloody hell."_

 

\+ + +

 

They had established that they would meet at Lola's Diner that day, and if the weather called for it, they'd buy some pie. Oh, and she was wearing that dress again. No matter how many times she had to send it to the dry cleaners to get it back into half decent shape. It apparently still had some good luck left in it. Not like she believed in that. What a load of crap. Anyway, Jemma Simmons had a bone to pick with a very special someone for putting her with the hot mess known as _Leo_ Fitz; she was going to need all the luck she could get.

**Author's Note:**

> so i recently took up a challenge for the summer to write one hundred oneshots based off a theme list, and i've chosen to write specifically about fitzsimmons! i've decided to post the fics here rather than just the site that i'm writing them on, so that everyone can relish in my bad fluff
> 
> the list of themes can be found here: http://kathrineroid.wordpress.com/2011/09/25/100-themes-challenge-writing-prompts/
> 
> <3 enjoy <3


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